Him
by blueskittles97
Summary: This is a story in which Yuuri reflects on his past with Victor.
1. Chapter 1

Deep breath in, hold.

Deep breath out.

I finish lacing up my skates and take a tentative step out onto the ice. This is the first time I've skated in over a year, and I'm nervous. Not because I think I'll fall or lose my balance, but because I can't stop thinking that I've disappointed _him._

I shift my weight and glide forward, feeling the smooth ice like velvet under the sharp blades of my old, comfy skates. Though I'd received new skates from various people to congratulate me for my hard work, I really preferred this pair above all the rest of them because they were soft, molded to my feet after years of careful wear. It almost felt like wearing nothing, the white leather just a part of my natural legs. I remember the first time I ever laced them up, and the last time they were laced up… by someone other than me.

— — —

He finishes lacing my skates and suddenly I feel his lips on my forehead, warm and gentle. His strong hands move to my shoulders, long fingers probing me softly before easing me up with one hand. His eyes, the most striking aquamarine, piercing into my own as he held me at arm's length before leading me toward the ice with one hand on the small of my back.

As we reached the opening which led out onto the expanse of white ice, those fingers found my wrist and held me gently as I turned to face him.

"Remember," he uttered, leaning close to my ear, hot breath running down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Remember… I love you." I closed my eyes, nodded, and launched myself onto the ice, his words echoing through my mind for the whole routine. I've never performed as hard as I did that day, but my body and my score fell even harder. I was nearing the end of my routine when it happened. The whole arena stopped and stared with baited breath as my left foot slipped from underneath me. I watched the ice come closer and closer to my face and then I felt a large crack on my skull. My world went black.

— — —

I take off with a leap, making a half revolution and landing on my other foot. I stick the landing and smile. A small salchow jump, nothing outrageous. But still something to be proud of. I beam, knowing full well that I've just done something simple yet beautiful and elegant that many other people can't do.

That is what sets me apart from everyone else.

Clapping. Oh god, where is the clapping coming from? I hear someone clapping and I spin around. Too fast. Shit. My toe slips out from under me and I come to a screeching halt and fall to one knee.

"That jump was impressive, but the fall, not so much," Victor laughs. My heart stops. I brush the hair out of my eyes and stand up, taking him in. He's wearing long, thin blue jeans, a white sweater, and a brown leather jacket. But why is he here? How did he know I was coming here? My heart speeds up and my mouth falls open, my mind searching for the words to talk to him.

But then I blink, and Victor is gone.

— — —


	2. Chapter 2

"Victor!" I cry out, my eyes searching for him in my dark room. It was just a dream. The skating, him disappearing, it was all just a dream. I feel warmth sidle up to my side, and soon, a pair of lips are on my cheek.

"It was nothing but a dream," Victor murmurs, his arm sliding across my abdomen, pulling me closer to him. I can hear him, feel him, and even smell him, the warm familiar smell of Victor, and my pounding heart slows. Even the dog stirs; I can hear him shuffling around our room. I close my eyes and allow myself to be molded to his body.

"You're right," I whisper, closing my eyes.

I hope this won't be a long night.

— — —

I awake in the morning to an absent bed and the smell of breakfast. I can hear Victor humming to himself in the kitchen, and I feel myself smiling as I begin to stretch. I sit up and run a hand through my hair as Makkachin rises from his bed and makes his way over to me, nuzzling my hand.

"Good morning pal," I say as I scratch his head. He looks up at me dotingly, and I crawl out of bed, putting my feet into my old, red, familiar slippers. He follows me as I shuffle through the house toward the sound and smell of sizzling meat. Victor looks up with a smile, his blue eyes squinting adorably.

"I hope you're hungry, _dear_ ," he says, scooping bacon onto a plate next to some poached eggs and buttered toast. I come up from behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, kissing his shoulder in the process.

"Ravenous," I reply, reaching down to snap off the burner. Victor puts the pan down and turns to face me, taking my hand in his own. His fingers trace around the ring he gave me. He brings my fingers up to his lips and kisses them softly.

"You should eat," he says suddenly, spinning back around and grabbing my plate. I blush and move over to the table, Makkachin following me, tail wagging. I sit down and Victor hands me the plate and a fork. "Coffee or orange juice?" he asks.

"Orange juice, only if you don't mind." Victor is really spoiling me today. He opens the fridge, shuffles past a few other items, and grabs the orange juice. He pours it into a glass as he walks to the table and sits down next to me, putting the orange juice on the table and resting his chin in his hand.

"Yuuri, I've been thinking…" he trails off, looking down. I take a drink of the orange juice and look up at him. "I've been thinking," he continues, "that we do something with these rings." I swallow and stop, looking at his on his own hand and then down to mine.

"Something like what?" I grab a piece of toast, breaking off the corner and putting it in my mouth. He smiles again, but there's something softer on his lips this time.

"Like a wedding, Yuuri." I stop.

"I thought that was only happening if I won the gold medal…" he takes my chin in my hand, his blue eyes piercing into mine.

"I changed my mind," he whispers. My heart pounds, and I can feel myself beginning to tear up. That stipulation of his, that we'd only get married if I'd won the gold medal, was seemingly set in stone. I don't know what's changed his mind, or how long he's even been thinking about this. Victor is the closest thing I have to a rock in my life, and I can't imagine him budging on that. Us not getting married was something that had just settled in my mind, an idea I'd just become accustomed to and never really thought twice about. We lived together, we ate together, we breathed together. We loved and committed ourselves to each other. What more could we possibly want from a marriage, a piece of paper?

So why was I thinking so deeply about it now, just because he'd brought it up?


End file.
